5 times Natasha scared the Avengers and 1 time they scared her
by Well.done.you
Summary: Need I say more? Literally what the title says. Have fun reading! Oh, and this is only Avengers compliant. I am politely ignoring anything past the first Avengers movie while writing fanfiction. It leaves room for a little Clintasha. ;)
1. Steve and the show

**Author's note: Hey y'all, hope you are doing good. As you can see, I am branching out from Harry Potter. I remember when I watched the Avengers I absolutely fell in love with Clint and Natasha. After reading a few(or more than a few), fanfics on here, I decided to try my hand. Hope you enjoy! For those of you who don't know, I am desperately scrambling for a beta for my Harry Potter story, War Has a Way. If you are a beta or know one please please please tell me.**

 **Note: I, as well as all others on this site, only own the order in which the words are written.**

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1\. In a rundown motel in northern Belgum, Steve Rogers sat down heavily on a couch beside Clint Barton. The two men stared at the redheaded lady in front of them. She was slowly brushing her hair. Steve kept his eyes on her hair and only her hair. Her dress, which was a deep emerald green, hugged her body in placed he did not want to see.

"Clint," growled Natasha dangerously. " Haal je ogen uit. Nu." (Get your eyes off. Now.) Clint only grinned and crossed his arms.

(And if I do not?)" ואם אני עושה לא ?"

"du vil dø en langsom og smertefull død." (You will die a slow and painful death). Steve sighed.

"Not the language battle again," he groaned.

"Dutch. Hebrew. Norwegian." responded Natasha. She spun around to face the men. Steve noticed that although her fave was stony, her eyes were twinkling. "Let's go." She stalked out of the room, swaying her hips dangerously. Steve and Clint followed her out, the former smirking widely.

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Thirty minutes later, Steve lay down on the roof of a building and looked through a scope. Although the ballroom was very crowded, his eye quickly found the Russian assassin. Natasha was looking around the room for her target. She quickly spotted him and slipped gracefully through the crowd. That nights's target was a young, twenty-something man wearing a navy suit. His dark hair was carefully combed back and his blue eyes scanned the crowd carefully. The mission was to capture the scientist and take him back to New York for interrogation. He had a weakness for pretty girls, and a reputation of extreme violence. So of course, S.H.I.E.L.D. had sent Strike Team Delta, for they had the prettiest girl capable of more extreme violence than the man could imagine. Steve had been sent along to babysit.

"Permission to engage target?" She asked over a com device.

"Permission granted," replied Steve gravely. Clint giggled like a child.

"Hawkeye, cut it out," muttered Natasha.

"Stevie here has never seen you work," replied Clint. Natasha's face remained stony.

"Get your eyes where they should be you møgunge." (Brat).

"Hvilket er på dig." (Which is on you.)

" På vores mål." (On our goal)

"Widow, please focus," sighed Steve. "And use English. Everyone you are around speak Danish."

"I am focused," she snapped. "All I told him was to keep his dirty eyes on the target."

"Oh yes, Tash. That's what you said," snorted Clint. "Please play with him a little. Please Tash?" Clint whined. Natasha stayed quiet for a long moment. When she spoke again, her voice was low.

" Als ik moet ." (If I must.) Clint pumped his arm in victory.

"Get ready Captain. You're in for a treat." Steve's heart rate sped up slightly. Whatever Clint Barton's idea of fun was, he did not want to be involved in.

" Goedenavond. U bent Mr. Leon ?" (Good evening. You are Mr. Leon?) Steve started slightly at the voice in his ear. He could see Natasha's red lips moving, but the resulting voice was higher, breather, and perfectly unaccented.

"She's a Linguist," Hawkeye said happily. Steve added that to the list of things he knew Natasha as. Linguist. Super Spy. Assassin. Avenger. S.H.E.I.L.D. agent. Deadly. Frightening. Unflappable. Beautiful.

"Are you Miss. Anaïs?" Leon's voice was low and slow. Steve could practically hear him salivating. Natasha let out a high giggle.

"Your English is so well," she breathed, running a slim finger down the scientist's chest.

"You accent, where is it from?" rumbled the man in front of Natasha, blissfully unaware of the two men on the roof next door.

"Here," replied Natasha sweetly. "My parents taught me German, however, so you may here some of that in my voice." Indeed, when Steve focused on her voice, he indeed heard strains of German. Steve silently marveled at her talent. The Russian assassin had hid her usual slightly russianaccented voice and created a perfect mix of Danish and German.

"Very interesting Miss Anaïs," said Leon. "Would you care to dance?" Natasha let out a small, breathless gasp.

"Oh, yes," she said, grasping Leon's arm tightly. "Let us."

The two moved around the dance floor slowly.

"So," said Leon. Steve widened his eyes at the sudden shift in his voice. It was now coarser. "Who are you really? I know Annïs. You are not her."

"You are right," said the Black Widow, slipping easily from breathless Annïs to deadly Black Widow in an instant. Steve was startled by her quick attitude swing. "I am not her. However, if I tell you my true name, you will be very afraid." Fear flashed across Leon's face.

"You are not," he trailed off. Natasha put her arms around his neck in a seemingly love-filled gesture. She pulled down the scientist's ear to her red lips.

"Jeg er den sorte enke," (I am the Black Widow) she whispered slowly. The tall scientist shuddered visibly. "You will not die tonight," she said quietly, pulling back. "If only you come with me." Leon nodded quickly. Faster than Steve could blink, Natasha had produced a tiny knife and had it pressed to Leon's back. "Let us go," she murmured, guiding the scientist toward the door.

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As he climbed down to the ground, Steve shuddered. The skill and talent that Steve had seen the Black Widow execute tonight was flawless. And terrifying. Her voice had changed. Her whole demeanor had changed. She had gone from harsh and distant to bubbly and silly, then back again. Steve shuddered once more. He hoped that the Russian assassin never turned her skill on him. He knew he would be dead or captured before he could take a breath.

"Too fast, Widow," Clint called to a scowling Natasha. She had Leon at gunpoint.

"What did you want, you простофиля?" (Nincompoop) snorted Natasha. " я сделал то, что я мог."(I did what I could.)

"You did not!" protested Clint. Natasha's eyes flashed dangerously.

"Ok," interrupted Steve, hoping to avoid a full blown argument. "Mr. Leon, we are taking you to New York. Black Widow, secure him. Hawkeye, get the car. Mr. Leon, we will not hurt you until necessary."

"Oh, he knows," purred Natasha. "We have a past, Don't we, Marcus." Leon paled.

"Let us not, Black Widow. It is the past." Steve felt his heart speed up as Natasha narrowed her emerald green eyes.

"Is is?" She whispered, dangerously touching his neck. "I feel it is the present." She cocked her head slightly and with a slight laugh leaned closer to the stiff man. "Perhaps even the future."

"Enough," snapped Steve. Natasha turned her cool gaze on Steve causing him to shift uncomfortably.

"Barton wanted a show and I gave it to you," she told him simply. "I hope you enjoyed." With that, she spun on her heel and walked Leon over to the waiting S.H.I.E.L.D. car, leaving Steve to stare at her retreating back, confused and (though he may not have admitted it) very afraid.

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 **Soooo, what did you think? What made Steve so afraid? Hint: it is one word and basically sums up what most people see Natasha as. Tell me your thoughts in a review! Oh, and sorry for butchering the languages in here. It is straight from Google translate.**


	2. Update

Hello dear readers,

To those of you that have reviewed, followed, and favorited, many thanks to you! It makes me smile to see that people enjoy my work. To the 280 something people who have viewed it, I thank you for that too. I wanted to let you all know some things

1\. I found a beta for this story! Many thanks to the wonderful JRBarton, who has kindly agreed to read over this for me. That being said, it means that the posting has gone to a stop as JR is currently betaing for me. Sooooo sorry, I will update as soon as I can.

2\. I have a problem, and I need YOUR help. (So chechè) I have run out of ideas for Thor. What about Natasha scares him? If you have an idea, tell me in a review or P.M.. I love all of your ideas, and want to hear what you all want. On that note, Scotia, I will definitely keep your idea in mind for the future.

Ok, I think that's all. Look in my profile for a poll about what you want me to focus on the most! Love you all!

Well done you


	3. Bruce, Natasha, and bonding time

***Gasp* it's been so long! But it is summer now, and I have inspiration. Make sure to check out my new story, Agent Eva. Thanks!**

2\. "You want to watch Romanoff interrogate someone?" Nick Fury considered Bruce Banner with a slightly amused look. "You. You want to watch the Black Widow conduct an interrogation." Bruce nodded.

"I have heard she was good, and she is my team mate. I want to see her skill." Director Fury snorted and mumbled something along the lines of ' Oh you'll see something alright'.

"I'll strike you a deal. You can go and watch the interrogation, heck, you can run it, but no crying to me when she scares you out of your pants." Bruce winced.

"Deal, he agreed.

"Oh," added Fury with a small smirk. "You tell the Deadly Duo." Bruce winced again. "Thank you director," he said, shaking the man's hand.

"Thank me after you see her," Fury said with a hit of amusement. "You won't be so thankful."

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Five days later, Bruce Banner found himself taking a deep breath. In four, hold four, out eight, he told himself. Natasha was intense, Insanely so, in his opinion.

"She's not mad, you know," commented Clint to the doctor, eyes locked on the Black Widow through the one way mirror. Bruce grunted, unbelieving. If that was not angry, he didn't have a green rage monster alter ego. At that moment, Natasha Romanoff was the epitome of angry. Bruce thought he had a pretty good idea of a not angry Natasha. She might usually have hard eyes, a death glare and a stiff body, but something about her usual manner said that she was not mad. Frustrated maybe, but not mad. This was different. This time, Natasha was totally still. Her eyes were flashing and her lips were drawn into a thin line. She glared daggers into the woman whom she was interrogating.

"You lie," she hissed. The woman, a tall, blonde American, shook her head violently.

"I swear, I do not-" Taking a step forward, Natasha slapped her face.

"Do. Not. Lie to me Miss. Jones. Tell me what I need to know." Natasha's face was stony.

"Please, am not lying."

"TELL ME NOW," roared Natasha.

"Not mad, huh?" asked Bruce dryly.

"Nope," chirped Clint as the woman began to sob and scream. Natasha slapped her again, harder.

"Ok, let's get her out of there. She has been in there long enough." Bruce moved to call over the com device. Without giving the him a single glance, Clint reached out to stop the doctor's hand.

"One hour isn't that long. She is about to get the final piece of information." Bruce shook his head.

"No, Clint, she hasn't gotten anything." Clint removed his face from the window long enough to stare at Bruce incredulously.

"Nothing? Natasha has gotten everything!" snorted the assassin.

"Like what?" asked Bruce.

"The place where Harris is hiding, what time she is supposed to meet him, the reason he wants the item, where she got the item, all Natasha needs is what the item is. She is almost there!" Bruce shook his head as the lady screamed again.

"I want her out. Widow, abort the mission," he told the assassin.

"No," she said quietly. "I almost have it."

"Black Widow, out. Now." There was a moment of eerie silence, punctuated by sobs from the lady.

"Fine," replied Natasha, in a barely audible voice. Then, louder, she told the woman, "We will continue this later." Natasha spun on her heel and stormed out if the room.

The second Natasha was out of the room and into the room Clint and Bruce were in, Clint told her.

"Wasn't me." He sounded slightly scared. Natasha nodded stiffly.

"I know." She turned her glare onto Bruce. He instantly shrunk down into his seat. He knew this time that Natasha was mad. He would go as far as to say livid.

"Bruce," she said in a voice completely void of emotion, yet full of anger. "Why am I not in that room doing my job?" Natasha's green eyes were sharp. They chilled Bruce to the bone. He gulped. Bruce thought that how he felt now was how a person facing a firing squad would feel. Full of terror at the killing machines all aimed on him.

"She isn't telling you anything," Bruce stated calmly. "She is sobbing."

"She has given me everything," hissed Natasha. "If you had given me just five more minutes, I would have had her. Five minutes."

"Tash," said Clint.

"Stay out of this," Natasha cut in furiously. She didn't waver her gaze from Bruce for one second. "I am going back in there, and I am finishing my job." With that, she spun around and stormed back into the room with the woman. Bruce sighed and sank further into his seat. And there was a mad Natasha

"She' still not really mad you know," Clint commented offhand. "Just annoied." Bruce groaned. Not mad? He supposed he would know when she was really mad when she cut his head off with a pair of kitchen shears. Natasha Romanoff scared the heck out of him.

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Natasha returned, all smiles, exactly five minutes later.

"Hello boys," she greeted them cheerfully, apparently oblivious to Clint's smirk and Bruce's terrified gaze. She typed a few commands into the laptop, and called up Agent Hill.

"Yes?" Asked the agent tersely. Bruce looked questioningly at Clint. He shrugged and smirked.

"James Harris is in the Regient Hotel. He is to meet Karis Jones on May Fifth at sixteen hundred hours in Hong Kong. The item is a death serum that causes the victim to die and quickly decompose, leaving a small amount of soil in it's place. He wants to kill the president of America. The serum is being held at the National Palace Museum in Taipei." Hill nodded curtly to Natasha.

"We will sent a team. Take Jones to her cell." Natasha nodded.

"Yes Ma'am." The video clicked off, and Natasha turned to the two men behind her. "I found nothing?" She asked Bruce with a sickly sweet smile. He gulped. "I am the best in my field," she continued with deadly cheerfulness. "I always find something." She spun on her heel once again and swayed her hips as she exited the room. Bruce sat in shock.

"She is mad now," Clint told him cheerfully as he began to pack the equipment up. "Really mad." Bruce gulped. "I can tell," he said faintly. Sweet and Natasha were not a good mix.

"Ooohhh, I haven't heard her this mad since Belarus!" Clint sounded strangly happy.

"Belarus?"

"She was about to get the last piece of info about a big human trafficking gang when Coulson called her to abort the mission. You should of seen her then. She had her suit unzipped a little and she was grinning. Grinning!" Clint zipped up the last bag. "I think she'll get over it. In a few weeks!" Clint cackled evily, then walked out to meet Natasha and a still sobbing Karis Jones.

"Oh God," whispered Bruce. "And I live with her!"


End file.
